


I Don't Believe In Fate, But I Sure As Hell Believe In You

by fallingaparttohalftime



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingaparttohalftime/pseuds/fallingaparttohalftime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The band is in its fledgling stages and Pete is confused by what he feels by this strange young kid they just made their lead singer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the process of re writing and adding to this story

Pete sighs, listening to Joe tell him the same thing about this kid he met in a bookstore for the twentieth time. _‘He knows his shit about music.’ ‘He can play an ass ton of instruments.’ ‘He can sing too, and write.’_ He finally relents and tells Joe he’ll let the kid try out. They haven’t really been actively recruiting for their little idea of a side project, but Pete figures it’s better than spending his Saturday in Joe’s basement smoking weed. 

So here he is, in the passenger seat of Joe’s shitty old car as they head deeper into the suburbs. He watches the colors of the homes blur by the window while zoning out to the sounds of the rock radio station Joe always plays. Outside it looks like picturesque suburbia. Pete feels so disenchanted with it all.

Joe had told him so much about this kid that he wasn’t sure what to really expect. He finds his thoughts wandering a little, wonders how this dude caught Joe’s attention. What does he look like? Is he a one of those scenester assholes? He gets out of the car almost as soon as Joe pulls up in front of the unassuming little house on the edge of Glenview. He walks up to the front door and rings the bell. The sounds of someone stumbling down a set of stairs can be heard inside.

“Be nice.” Joe reminds, elbowing Pete. He runs a hand through his bleached hair. 

Pete rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever, dude.” He leans against the side of the entryway as he waits for this kid to answer. He occupies himself by picking at his already chipped black nail polish.

When Patrick finally opens the door, Pete just blinks. Patrick, he knows the kid’s name from Joe’s constant ramblings, is not what Pete had expected at all. He’s this dorky looking short kid with thick rimmed glasses, an argyle sweater vest and probably the worst haircut Pete has ever seen. Pete’s taller than him, but just barely. He doesn’t look like the type of kid anyone would ever see in the hard core scene. Pete thinks for a moment that Joe must’ve drove them to the wrong house.

“Hey Patrick!” Joe greets. “This is Pete, the guy-“

Patrick cuts him off. “Holy shit. You’re in Arma.” He gasps.

Pete shrugs. “Was.” That band had come to its end a few weeks ago. Pete wasn’t sorry to see it go. It had started to go bad. Everyone started fighting and one by one they left till Pete was the only original member. It’s hard to bail out a sinking ship and Pete had given up on trying. He’d booked the last Arma show and had Joe and a few friends fill in so Pete could call an official end to this thing. A few days after that show Joe insisted he and Pete should start something new, something different. 

Patrick looks a little shy. “Oh. Sorry to hear.” He steps back to let the other two inside.

The home looks like any other in the area. Small but comfortable. The entry way splits off of the living room to the right and the kitchen and dining room at the end of the hall. It reminds Pete of his own home a lot even down to the same looking art prints on the wall above the living room sofa. 

Pete follows close behind Joe. “He says you want to drum for us…thing is, we already have a drummer.”

“But Hurley-“ Joe is silenced with an elbow jab to the ribs.

“Hurley digs us.” Pete speaks. “Just doesn’t wanna do this unless there is a solid band. Can you sing, kid?” 

Patrick looks like he would rather be swallowed by the floor. “I-I can try, I mean, I guess.”

Pete flops across the living room sofa, toeing off his shoes. “Then sing me something, anything.”

“Okay.” He swallows hard and looks at his kit set up in the corner of the room. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me drum?” He asks. “I’m a way better drummer than a singer.”

“Dude, I’ve heard you sing and that’s a total lie.” Joe said, sitting next to Pete. “We’re not gonna force you to do it, but it’d be cool if you tried.”

Patrick nods and looks down before he disappears into another room and comes back with an acoustic guitar. It’s an old twelve string that has half the strings taken off. It looks like it’s been well taken care of and Patrick holds it like it’s his prized possession. He sits down on the couch across from them and takes a moment to tune it. He takes a deep breath and launches into a rendition of a Bowie tune, keeping his eyes closed the whole time. He looks nervous, jittery. His foot taps restlessly to the beat, and he seems to be sweating a little.

 _'Loosen up'_ Pete thinks as he watches the other.

And _holy shit_. Pete finally understands why Joe wouldn’t stop talking about this kid. He thinks feels his heart actually skip a beat as the final note rings out. “You’re in.” Pete says, before the kid can even look up from his guitar. 

Patrick looks surprised. “What? Really?”

Pete nods. “Yeah. Do you want it?” 

Patrick blinks. “I don’t know if I’m really good enough to sing. I just wanted to drum and write.”

The older sits up and looks at Patrick. “It would be a real shame to let you hide behind a kit when you have a voice like that.” He told him. “You’re an angel or something, kid.”

Patrick blushed and looked down at his guitar. “I don’t know what you see in me.”

“Greatness.” Pete said simply. “So are you in?”

Patrick thought for a moment before he finally nodded. 

The older gives a little smile. “Good. Practice is every Tuesday at Joe’s house after you guys are out of school.”

The kid looks back up at him. “So what kind of music are we gonna play?”

Pete gave a shrug. “All I know is that I’m tired of hardcore. Tired of the music and tired of the people in the scene. I wanna do something different. Something lighter. Pop punk maybe.”

“It could be fun, but I don’t think I have the voice for that.” Patrick sounds nervous. 

“Trust me. You’re the kind of voice the world needs to hear.” 

Joe rolled his eyes. “You’re getting sappy in your old age, Wentz.”

Pete laughs and shoves him. “You’re just jealous.” 

Patrick smiles a bit. “You know I heard that you were like this big, intimidating asshole/cassanova. You don’t really seem like either of those.”

Pete bites his lip. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I’m definitely not big.” He jokes. 

“That’s true.” Patrick laughs

The look is so endearing and Pete can’t help but fall (at least a little) in love with that face. _Boy, this kid is in for a real shock_ Pete thinks. _Wait till he finds out what I’m really like. He’ll run, just like the rest._ He’s dreading the day that Patrick figures out that Pete is the reason Arma broke up. That he is a literal walking, talking crazy person. Joe is one of the few people who puts up with him these days, he doubts Patrick will be as patient. 

Joe is just sitting there with this satisfied _‘I told you so’_ look on his face. Pete sticks his tongue out at him when Patrick goes to put the guitar back.

“Do you guys wanna go to dinner?” Patrick asks. “I can buy as long as it’s something cheap like Taco Bell, you know?” 

Pete’s stomach growls now that the thought of food is in his head. “I could go for a bunch of burritos.”

Joe stands up and stretches. “Yeah. Me too. You can ride with us.”

Patrick smiles. “Thanks.” 

That little quirk of the younger’s lips is enough to send Pete’s heart pounding in his chest. Pete can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this way about anyone. He’s not sure what to call it. He barely knows this kid and already feels like he’s head over heels. How pathetic is that?

Pete ends up the lone passenger of the back seat. Patrick calls shot gun, and unfortunately Joe rules in his favor. He sits in the middle of the seat with his arms crossed and pouts like a spoiled child. 

“Dude.” Patrick laughs. “You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

Pete rolls his eyes. 

“Cheer up, Petey.” Joe teases. “We’re starting a band. This is cause for celebration!”

Pete gives a half smile. “Cheesy, bean filled, celebration.”

Joe snorts. “Exactly.”

\---

Patrick watches on with a bit of horror as Pete manages to stuff yet another burrito in his face. Joe notices his expression and laughs. “Pete’s kind of an idiot. You get used to it.”

Pete stops. “Hey!”

Joe shrugs. “Can’t deny the truth.”

Pete rolled his eyes and licked his fingers. “So what kind of music do you like, kid?”

The younger smiles and blushes a little. “I listen to pretty much everything. I love Prince, and Michael Jackson, and Elvis Costello. Depends on what I’m in the mood for.”

Pete nodded and smiled. He watched the way the other’s eyes became bright as he talked about his passion. He has to almost pull himself out of a day dream. “What about punk?” he asks

Patrick shrugged. “Of course. Green Day, Blink, The Cure…I love it all.”

Pete ran his fingers through his hair before taking his last bite of burrito. “I think you’re gonna be our golden ticket, Tricky.”

He laughed. “Don’t call me that.”

Joe elbowed him. “Pete’s the queen of stupid nicknames so better get used to it.”

\---

That night, when Pete lies in bed, his thoughts drift back to the new kid. He has a young and slightly round face with pretty, bright eyes. His cheeks flush bright whenever he get embarrassed (an easily induced occurrence, Pete notices.) The kid will smile and try to hide it by pulling his hat down low over his eyes. Pete can’t help but all of it endearing. 

A few weeks ago, Pete had broken up again with his on-again-off-again girlfriend, and now here he is trying to convince himself that he doesn’t have a crush on this kid. _I’m just starved for attention or something_ , he thinks. He finds himself if love at first sight is real or just some over tired cliché they make up for the movies. 

Needless to say, he doesn’t really sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is that smile, the way those blue eyes light up when there’s talk about music… almost like it’s his life blood. 

Pete knows he is so, _so_ fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete’s laying sprawled across his bed. It’s unseasonably hot out, and even inside he feels like his clothes are glued to him. He’s boredly throwing a little bouncy ball and watching it hit the ceiling. He finds himself with more than enough time to kill since he got fired from his job. He’d lost his licence and stopped showing up. He hasn’t bothered to look for a new one since (a fact his father isn’t too happy about.) 

His father brings his laziness up over breakfast, but Pete stays adamant that music is going to be his way to make it out of Chicago. Pete’s never believed in anything quite like he does music. Even if that makes him far from his father’s dream of the ‘perfect son.’ He’s a disappointment and he knows it, but he can’t see himself being happy in some 9-5. Where’s the excitement and originality in that life?

He sighs as the ball bounces the wrong way and rolls under his bed. Too lazy to get up and fetch it, he reaches for one of his Transformer action figures he has on his night stand instead. He stares up at the ceiling with eyes unfocused, manipulating the pieces by muscle memory. He’s had this particular model since he was young. The room is quiet except from the soft clicks from the parts of the toy.

There’s a loud knock at his bedroom door and Pete's jolted straight out of his train of thought. He snaps to attention and scrambles to his feet.

“Hey asshole!” Joe calls out from the other side. “Are you coming to practice or what?”

Pete looks at his phone, is it really Tuesday already? “Shit.” He mumbles to himself. “Give me like, thirty seconds dude.” He quickly puts on the nearest somewhat clean clothes he can find and grabs his bass before meeting Joe in the hallway.

“Dude, you okay?” Joe asks. “Haven’t heard from you all week and now you’re forgetting practice? What’s up?”

Pete shrugs him off. “Was just being lazy and playing video games and shit. You know how it is.”

Joe furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah, sure.” He wonders for a moment what’s got Pete so seemingly distracted. Pete looks like he’s hardly moved from his bed for the whole week, smells like it too. He’s a little worried as he follows the other out to the car and plops into the driver’s seat. 

Patrick's in the back seat and waves at Pete when he sees him walk out. The younger swears he feels his heart stutter in the moment. When Pete gets closer, Patrick’s elation changes to a bit of worry. There’s dark circles under Pete’s eyes and he looks just plain exhausted. Patrick can’t help but wonder why.

Pete gives a tired smile as he opens the back door to slip his bass in beside Patrick. He takes over the front seat, kicking his feet up on the dashboard.

“Dude, you’re totally gonna ruin that.” Patrick says quickly, pointing to Pete’s dirty sneakers

Joe just shrugs. “This car is a hunk of junk anyway. Don’t worry about it.” He glances over at Pete. “Oh I forgot to tell you, one of the upperclassmen at school is selling their van, we might wanna look into it.”

“Van?” Patrick asks. “For what?”

“Touring.” Pete says quickly. “Gotta have people outside Chicago hear our band somehow.”

All the color seems to fade from Patrick’s face in that instant and Pete thinks the kid looks like he’s gonna be sick. “So you…you mean like, uhm, shows?” Patrick stammers.

Pete nods. “What else does a band go on tour for?” 

Patrick seems to shrink down in his seat. “Oh.”

Pete looks at him through the rear view mirror. “You alright, kid?”

The younger just shrugs and shakes his head. “I uh…” he swallows hard. “I have kinda a little stage fright…” he says the last words in an almost whisper.

“It can be worked through.” Pete tells him with small smile. “You have a cute smile, we get you the confidence to go with it and all the ladies and dudes will swarm you.” _no no no Wentz._ He thinks, _you are not flirting with this kid._

Patrick tries to manage a hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Pete nods. “Little known fact. Got kicked out of my first three bands because of stage fright.”

The kid looks surprised. “You actually got kicked out of a band?”

Pete laughs. “More than my fair share.” He tells him. “I’m kind of an asshole, remember.” 

With the smile and the easy laugh that Patrick gives him, Pete feels his heart flutter. He wonders if maybe, just maybe, Patrick is thinking the same things that are currently swirling in his mind. He hopes so. Because he doesn’t think he wants to go another day without seeing that precious smile.

\---

Band practice that night goes about as well as it can with four people that haven’t played together before. But underneath that Pete can feel their potential. This band, more than any of the others feels to him like the one that’s going to make it. They raid Joe’s freezer for pizza pockets and devour them while they play shitty covers of their favorite songs.

Joe looks disgusted as he picks cheese and tomato sauce out of his hair. “Really, Pete?” he sighed. “Did you have to throw that at me? You’re a dick.”

Pete laughs loudly. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Your face was priceless though.” Patrick snickers.

“Don’t encourage him!” Joe rolled his eyes.

Pete slings an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “You’re my new partner in crime, Trick.”

Andy snorts. “Stop corrupting the children, Pete.” He picked up his sticks. “Now are we actually gonna play music or are we gonna act like animals?”

Pete has to stop himself from watching in awe when they play Green Day’s ‘Basket Case’. His eyes focus on Patrick’s mouth and the way his soft pink lips curl around the words. He quickly pushes down any of the other thoughts that bubble to the surface. This kid is golden. He’s so sure of it. This kid is going to make them all famous, Pete just _knows_ it.

Pete has a buzzing feeling in his bones as he’s dropped off by Joe that night. 

\---

The next day, Pete harasses Joe for a solid hour until he finally gives up Patrick’s phone number. 

“Please?” he asks, handing him a cookie from the box Joe’s mom had given them to share.

Joe sighs. “It’s not my number to give. Why do you want it anyway?”

Pete shrugs and shoves a whole cookie in his mouth. “I just wanna know him better.”

The other scrunches his face up and brushes the cookie crumbs from his shirt. “Say it, don’t spray it dude.”

Pete swallows the bite and looks over at Joe. “Please?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you didn’t get it from me, alright?”

\---

Pete goes home after that spends the next day in his room texting his new lead singer. 

‘hey.’

‘Who’s this?’

‘your lvble a-hole bassist. who else?’ 

Patrick enters Pete as a contact under that name with a smirk. ‘So what did you want?’ 

‘im bored.’  
‘what r u up to?’

‘I’m in school, asshole.’

‘oh’  
‘forgot that shit existed’  
‘what abt after?’

‘Working on an English project :(‘

‘why do u txt so propr?’  
‘also im way more entertaining thn hmwork.’

‘because readable texts are cool’  
‘And so you like to think.’

‘srsly. ditch ur project and meet me aftr.’

‘Can’t. My mom won’t let me do the band if my grades slip.’

Pete sighs and rolls over on his bed, reaching for the phone charger. ‘okay.’

He guesses he’ll have to find something else to take his excess energy out on. Joe said he has something planned for after school and Andy is all the way in Milwaukee. He’s so bored that he has no clue what to do with himself. He lays in silence for a few minutes before he decides to get dressed, he’s going to take his brother’s car and go to a club tonight.

Pete put on his tightest pair of jeans, the ones that almost look painted on, and a too short t shirt that shows his navel whenever he lifts his arms. He looks like the kind of boy that’s looking for trouble, and just maybe, he is. He leans into the mirror and rings his eyes with dark liner and smirks. He waits till his parents go to bed to sneak the car out of the garage.

He spends his night being handed expensive drinks by strangers that keep grinding on him in time to shitty electronic music. Someone pulls him into a darkened corner and kisses him. He doesn’t stop them, just lets the older man feed him another drink. 

By the end of the night he’s very drunk and giggles as he sits behind the wheel. He gets about half way home before he sees flashing lights in his mirror. “Shit.” He whispers to himself as he drives up onto a sidewalk. The officer takes one look at him and arrests him for driving under the influence and driving with a suspended licence. And that’s how Pete ends up spending the night in the city jail.

He’s put into a holding cell he hears one of the officers call ‘the drunk tank’ to sober up. There’s half a dozen other people in here and Pete scrunches up his nose at the smell of booze mixed with vomit. He checks to make sure the floor is clear before he sits down and curls up in the corner with his head on his knees. 

“Someone had too much fun tonight.” A woman laughs. 

Pete groans. “Shut up. You’re in the same boat.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” She says. “I’d party too if I looked as pretty as you.”

Pete has a pounding headache starting to set in behind his temples. He just wants this lady to shut up and leave him alone. He wants to be home in his own bed, not on this cold concrete floor. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep this off.

A few hours later Pete’s shaken awake by an officer. “Get up kid. Call someone to come bail you out.”

He’s not sure why he’s wasting his phone call on Patrick instead of his parents. It wouldn’t be the stupidest thing his mom would have gotten him out of. He isn’t sure what this kid can possibly do for him.

“Hullo?” the voice sounds sleep weary.

“Patrick!” Pete gasps, surprised the other even so much as picked up. 

“What’s wrong?” The younger boy yawns into the phone.

“I got arrested.” Pete blurts out.

“What?!” Patrick sounds surprised. “Why?”

“It’s not important.” 

“I’m not doing anything for you until you tell me why.” Patrick says firmly

“I went to a club, got drunk, tried to drive home.” Pete admits.

Patrick freezes, anger bubbling to the surface. “You…you…” he stammers. “You are a fucking idiot and you can stay in jail.” 

“Trick wait!” The older sounds panicked. 

“No, Pete.” He spits. “Go fuck yourself.”

The kid hangs up and the line goes dead. There goes his one phone call. 

Pete is taken to another cell where he’s told he’ll stay until he can post bail. He lays down on the cot that’s so hard he might as well be laying on the damn tile floor again. The damn thing even squeaks loud enough to wake the dead every time he shifts. He lays on his back and stares up at the crumbling ceiling. He doesn’t sleep at all that night. All he can hear is the anger in Patrick’s voice echoing in his mind. 

He hates feeling like he’s a disappointment.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe shows up at Pete’s parents’ house to pick him up for practice the next Tuesday only to find out he isn’t even home. He knows Pete hasn’t been answering messages but just figures the other is ignoring him in his typical Wentz-like fashion. 

“Do you know where he went?” Joe asks Pete’s mother.

She shakes her head and heaves a sigh. “He didn’t tell us he left. I went up to tell him that breakfast was ready a few days ago and he wasn’t there. I assumed he’d went to stay with a friend.”

Joe knows that Pete doesn’t really have that many friends, and even fewer that would let him stay for extended periods of time. There’s the band and a few people outside of it but most people are not sure how to handle Pete and end up just drifting away. Joe has seen it enough times to know. He thanks Pete’s mom before heading out to pick up Patrick.

Patrick throws his guitar into the back seat of Joe’s car with a grumble before taking his spot in the passenger seat. He has an angry look on his face and his arms are crossed. 

“What’s wrong?” Joe asks tentatively.

“Nothing.” Patrick says with an almost too harsh tone.

Joe decides it’s probably best not to push, Patrick has a temper even at the best of times. Andy’s way better at getting answers out of people anyway. Speaking of the drummer, he is currently leaning against his own car, twirling a drum stick between his fingers as Joe pulls into the driveway. 

“Hey.” He says, smile falling a little when he see Patrick’s grim expression. “Where’s Pete?”

Patrick just frowns more and walks inside the house, sporting a white knuckled grip on the guitar case.

“What was that about?” Andy asks.

Joe just shrugs and goes inside. He figures they can make it through one practice without Pete.

And as it turns out, they can’t make it through a practice without Pete. Patrick keeps messing up words and forgetting chords and it almost ends with Patrick punching a wall in frustration if Andy hadn’t stopped him. 

“Spill kid.” Andy demands. “What’s eating you?”

“Pete.” Patrick grumbles. “He is such a fucking idiot and I hate him.”

“Why?” Joe chimes in. “Did you two break up or something?” 

It isn’t exactly a state secret that Pete likes Patrick. Andy and Joe have known Pete long enough to realize that Pete won’t usually take to people quickly but with this kid it was like an almost instant connection. 

Patrick goes wide eyed before he flips him off. “NO.” he snarls. “He just had to go and do the stupidest thing ever and I am so fucking mad at him.”

“And that is?” Andy presses.

“He’s so irresponsible! He could have killed somebody!” The younger rants, throwing his hands up in the air. 

Joe’s brows knit together. “What did he do?”

Patrick is practically fuming. “He got a DUI.” 

“But his licence is suspended?” Joe was more than a little confused.

“Which is why he can rot in jail.” Patrick crosses his arms, a frown set on his face.

“Which jail is he in?” Andy asks. “We can probably pool enough money for his bail.”

Patrick looks upset. “I’m not going to fund his stupidity. If he wants to drink and drive he can deal with the consequences! He could’ve killed someone!” He tries to hide the way his eyes are wet with tears.

Joe moves Patrick to make him sit down on the couch. “Talk to us dude. It’s okay.”

“M-my…” he trails off. “I…I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Pete can deal with his own stupid decisions without realizing how they affect others.” He stands and walks out.

Neither Joe nor Andy move to stop him and Patrick walks the whole way home staring at his feet. He wonders how Pete could be so dumb. All he can think of was how his father’s life was taken by someone who made the same stupid decision. Pete probably doesn’t even care. He’s the invincible Pete Wentz. Why would he? Patrick thinks angrily. He’s just being the usual selfish asshole he is. He swears the first thing he’s gonna do when he sees Pete again is punch him in his stupid fucking face.

\---

Andy and Joe end up going to the jail and pay Pete’s bail. They all agree not to tell his parents and Pete drains his bank account to get the boot taken off his brother’s car. Joe drives the car back to Pete’s place and Andy follows behind with Joe’s car. 

Joe sighs and shakes his head. “This was fucking stupid. You know that right?”

Pete nods before turning away to walk inside. He ignores his mother’s fussing over him and heads upstairs. He turns on music loud enough to drown out his thoughts and flops across his bed. He sees unanswered texts on his phone but tosses the device into the sheets and ignores it.

\---

Pete has a handful of little stones and is tossing them one by one at the window of Patrick’s second floor bedroom, trying to get his attention. He feels like this is crazy, a stunt straight out of an 80’s teen movie.

Patrick stumbles half-awake to the window and pulls back the curtains. He frowns deeply when he sees Pete standing on his lawn. He flips the other off and dramatically shuts the curtains. Pete just keeps throwing stones. 

Patrick throws open the window and shouts, “What the fuck do you want?” probably loud enough to wake the whole block.

Pete looks up with a hurt expression. “Just to talk to you.” He begs. “Please.”

“Get fucked.” Patrick growls, shutting the window and drawing the curtains.

Pete tries once more to get Patrick to come to the window but the younger isn’t having any of it. Pete drops the rest of his stones and walks away heaving a sigh. He thought this kid was his best friend.

\---

Patrick ignores him at band practice that week. He just straight up pretends that Pete doesn’t even exist. He talks to Andy or Joe but it is like Pete is completely invisible to him. It makes Pete feel like shit, which he probably deserves. He keeps his eyes fixed on the strings of his bass as Andy counts them off. Pete can’t wait for this practice to end.

Joe drops him off last that night. They ride in silence, not even the radio on. Joe doesn’t say anything but just keeps shooting Pete these worried little glances and they make Pete feel more like shit. He doesn’t need his band mates to pity him. He doesn’t even say goodbye when Joe pulls up in front of his house. He walks past his family in the living room and locks himself in his bedroom. He blares his music to drown out his thoughts.

\---

The next week doesn’t go any better. Pete knows he fucked up but all this being left in the dark about what he did wrong only serves to make him freak out more. Patrick won’t so much as answer a text. Or a voice mail. Pete even tries calling Patrick’s house. The kid’s mother answers and he hears Patrick in the background whispering to say he’s not home. Pete hangs up before she can even reply. 

\---

By the fourth week Pete disappears before band practice and doesn’t show up at all.

Andy walks up to Patrick after an hour of waiting for the bassist to show. “You need to fix your shit with him.” He takes out his phone and walks away to try and call Pete.

“Helloooo?” Pete answers, slurring.

“It’s Andy.” He tells the other. “Where the fuck are you?” Music can be heard thumping in the background, muffled like he’s in another room.

“Nowhere you need to know.” Pete hangs up.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket and heads back to the dance floor. He knew it was a stupid idea to come here tonight. He can almost hear his old therapist lecturing him about his impulsive nature in the back of his head. It wasn’t impulsive in his mind, he just wanted to forget that his best friend hated him and he didn’t even know why. He tried to lose himself in the flashing lights and the beat of the music. He loses tracks of what he takes and how many drinks he has.

Pete walks home drunk from the club that night and passes out in the grass of a park. He feels so damn pathetic. If he’s going to go out, he doesn’t want it to be like this. His head is spinning as he looks up at the stars. He rubs absently at his churning stomach. He feels like he’s going to die.

Patrick snuck out of his house despite the late hour to go on a walk. He needs to think. He has his hands in the pockets of sweatshirt and the hood pulled low over his eyes. Andy’s right, he needs to fix this. But how? How can he even begin to explain what he’s feeling: all the anger, pain, and terror? How could Pete even begin to understand?

He sees someone laying in the grass up ahead. “Drunk.” He mumbles to himself. “Or druggie.” He halts in his tracks when he realizes just who the man on the grass is. “Pete. What the fuck?” He says angrily when he’s close enough.

“Tricky?” He mumbles, looking up with unfocused eyes. His eyes have dark circles both from lack of sleep and layers of smeared eyeliner. The stains on his shirt say he’d already puked at least once tonight. He looks like a mess. And Pete figures he has every reason to be a mess right now. This is the first time his friend has talked to him and he’s yelling at him. 

Patrick rolls his eyes as he steps closer. “You’re drunk.” He says blankly. “You fucking reek, dude.”

“Very.” Pete shrugs. “And high, I think. Not sure.” 

The younger boy shakes his head. “You’re not worth my time.”

The words echo in Pete’s mind and he wonders if this was what heartbreak feels like. Because he swears in this moment he feels his heart cleaving in two. He passes out a few minutes later, waking up the next morning with a pounding headache and rain drenched clothes. He shivers as he walks the rest of the way home. He shucks his clothes the second he gets into his room. He puts on clean boxers and climbs into his bed. He shivers as he pulls the covers up to his chin. He rolls over on his phone. It’s blinking with unread messages.

‘Hey, are you around? I wanted to talk to you?’  
‘Okay you haven’t answered four texts and three voicemails. You’re attached at the hip to your phone. What gives?’  
‘Pete. Are you okay? Everyone is worried. I’m worried. Answer me.’  
‘This is my last message. Pete, please call me back.’

Pete let the phone clatter to the floor. He buries his face in the pillow and cries for the first time in a long time. He’s blown everything. There goes more of his life falling to pieces because of his mistakes. Patrick hates him now and probably always will. Nothing makes Pete’s heart hurt more than that.

\---

The next day Pete’s sitting on the curb outside Patrick’s school as the final bell rings. He has two cups of coffee in a paper tray and a bag of Patrick’s favorite donuts on the sidewalk next to him. Pete’s hoping to use them as a peace offering. He sees Patrick coming out of the school and stands up, waving at him. Patrick doesn’t even so much as glance Pete’s direction, just keeps on walking. Pete lets the coffee in his hands drop to the ground and it pools in a sticky mess at his feet.

Patrick just quickens his pace so Pete won’t be able to see the tears in his eyes.

Pete is still sitting there long after the school parking lot has cleared. Kids jeered at him and called him pathetic as they drove past, some threw empty pop cans and wads of paper. He feels transported back to grade school for a moment. After half an hour of sitting there alone feeding the donuts to the pigeons, his phone buzzes. A message from Patrick.

‘I’m sorry.’  
‘I just can’t be around you right now.

 _Yeah. I don’t want to be around me either._ Pete thinks, scrubbing his hands over his face. He shoves the device in his pocket and starts the long walk home.

\---

Pete has Joe come on a walk with him the next day. They are on some quiet forest trail through a random park Pete can’t remember the name of. He kicks a rock out of his path and sighs. “How do I fix this?” He asked, thinking out loud.

“Fix what?” Joe asked, dragging a stick through the dirt and making little designs.

“Whatever’s going on with Patrick.” He replies.

Joe shrugs his shoulders. “I dunno man. Sounds like a question you’ll have to ask him.”

Pete threw his hands up in the air. “But that’s the thing.” He sounds exasperated. “How can I ask him when he doesn’t acknowledge my existence?”

Joe skips a rock across the shallow water of the stream in front of them. “You’re the master of grand gestures, man.” Joe tells him. “Figure out how to kiss and make up.”

Something just clicks in Pete’s head. That’s how he’s going to make this work. He’s going to convince Patrick Stump to kiss him. 

Joe waves a hand in front of Pete’s face. “Hello, Earth to space cadet?”

Pete jumps a little, derailing his train of thought. 

“Dude.” Joe looks at him with a confused expression. “You only get that look when you’re thinking of doing something stupid.”

Pete shrugs. “I’m going to ask him out on a date.”

Joe furrows his brows. “Dude. He’s not really thrilled with you right now. What makes you think he’ll agree to a date?” He asked. “Plus, isn’t he a little young for you?”

“I have to do something, Joe.” Pete sighed. “I can’t lose that kid. I just can’t.”

“Then talk to him!” The other threw up his hands. “No stupid tricks or schemes. Just sit him down and have a conversation.”

Pete looks down. “I don’t even know why he’s so mad at me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Come on.” He nudges Pete’s arm. “I’m dropping you off at his house. You two need to work this shit out once and for all.”


	4. Chapter 4

Half an hour later Pete’s standing in the doorway of Patrick’s mother’s house. The singer has his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl. He’s not thrilled to see Pete and is even less so when he hears what he wants. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please.” Pete begs. “I just need this.”

“No. I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now Pete.” Patrick takes a step back. “It’s not always about what your selfish ass needs, okay? It wouldn’t kill you to think of someone else for once in your life.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Pete defended. “But you shut me out at every turn.”

“Go home, Pete.” The other rolls his eyes.

Pete goes to his plan B. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just told you I want nothing to do with you. What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you. Do you ever listen to anything besides the sound of your voice?” He grunts and slams the door.

Pete stands there for a second just staring at the closed door. “I just miss the sound of yours.” He whispered to the empty air. He keeps his eyes on the ground and walks to where Joe has parked the car at the end of the street.

Joe shuts off the radio and looks over at the other. He’s a little unsure of what to say. “That was fast. Did it go okay?”

Pete shakes his head. “Just take me home.”

\---

Pete has a notebook balanced in his lap. He writes a few lines and tears out the page, crumpling it and throwing it across the room. They’re maybe lyrics but mostly shitty poetry about how hope and love are lies. He gives up and shoves the notebook under his bed. He kicks a few wads of paper off the bed and lies back, staring at the patterns the lights of passing cars make on the wall.

Pete rolls over for his phone. He can’t stop himself from texting Patrick. He knows it’s late and the other is probably asleep but he still tries.

‘idk what I did but im srry.’  
‘plz don’t leave me in the dark like this.’  
‘I wanna fix this but idk how.’  
‘pls. Im honestly trying.’

Patrick answers with a single text. ‘Go to bed, Pete.’

‘can’t sleep when im like this.’  
‘please jst tell me what I fucked up.’  
‘im a big boy.’  
‘I can own up to my mistakes.’  
‘sometimes.’

Again the same message. ‘Go. to. bed. Pete.’

‘i just need to hear your voice.’  
‘please’  
‘don’t do this.’

‘You’re just tired. Go to sleep. Stop waking me up.’  
‘I’m turning off my phone.’

‘don’t plz. Im srry.’  
‘Trick?’  
‘are u there?’

Pete gives up after that and smashes his phone, throwing it hard against the wood floor. He gets up and jams his backpack with whatever he can. He throws in a few changes of clothes and a blank notebook. He takes all the cash he has and and buys a ticket online for the next greyhound bus out of Chicago. 

Before he takes off he figures he owes an explanation. He writes a few quick letters and seals them up in envelopes, leaving them on the desk for whomever comes next to find. He tidies up his room to spare his mother the trouble, she already puts up with too much of his bullshit. He even makes his bed and sets the broken pieces of his phone on top of it. He takes one last look around. This is the last time I’ll ever see home he thinks. Heaving a sigh, he grabs his backpack and leaves.

He takes a city bus downtown to the terminal. He picks up his ticket from some old lady working the one open ticket booth. He waits in a quiet room with about fifty other people, clutching his ticket and waiting for his bus arrival to be announced. He wonders why these other people are here. Are any of them running away like him? Most of them look like professionals in three piece suits. There’s a single mother with her young child, and like Pete they look like the odd ones out. 

The little girl comes up to Pete and puts a sticker on the knee of his jeans. “For you!” She smiles.

Pete looks down at the pink unicorn sticker. “Thank you.” He smiles a little. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emily.” She smiles shyly.

The mother turns around and shoots Pete and apologetic look. “Honey, you shouldn’t bother people, it’s rude.”

Pete shrugs. “She’s fine. She’s not bothering me at all.” He looks back down at the little girl. “I’m Pete.”

She holds up a sheet of stickers. “Do you like them Petey?” 

Pete smiles and nods. “Those are really cool. Look at all the unicorns.” He spends probably half an hour talking to the little girl. He misses when life was that simple and innocent. Seeing the way she looks at the world is almost a breath of fresh air. He’s a little sad when his bus is called and he has to go.

So now here he is on a bus bound for St. Louis, Missouri. He’s running away from his problems because he’s a giant coward. It’s getting dark out and he can’t see much other than the blur of tail lights as the bus roars into the night. As the Chicago skyline gets further and further away he realizes that he can’t remember the last time he’d taken his medication. Maybe it was adding to all this. But hey, he can’t hurt Patrick or anyone else if he isn’t around, right?

\---

After Patrick turns off his phone, he can’t fall back asleep. Maybe he has been a little harsh on Pete, but the other has to learn somehow. After about ten minutes he turns his phone back on and types a long text to Pete, but stops himself before he can send it. He sighs and rolls onto his side. He’ll talk to the other in the morning.

The next day, Patrick has a small white cardboard box clutched in his hands with a single cupcake inside. It’s red velvet, which he knows is Pete’s favorite. He holds onto it as he knocks on the door of Pete’s house. Andy and Joe are right, he needs to make amends. He has to suck it up and actually talk to the other.

He smiles at Pete’s mom as he’s let in and allowed upstairs. He knocks on Pete’s door and there’s no answer. He knocks again. It’s oddly quiet on the other side of the door. No loud music, no sounds of Pete’s scratchy practice amp, not even movement. Patrick’s growing worried. He tries the door handle and it isn’t locked. It swings open into a clean and quiet room. Both of those things are not very Pete-like at all. 

Patrick steps in further to find several envelopes on his desk. They’re all sealed and have names in Pete’s scrawl on the back: Mom & Dad, Patrick, Joe, Andy. Patrick sets the cupcake down, forgotten, and sits on the edge of the bed to open his envelope. There’s a single piece of paper inside and all that’s written on it is: _“I hope you know that you broke my fucking heart.”_

A tear slips down Patrick’s cheek. “I hope you know that you broke mine too, you asshole.” He whispers to the empty air. When he looks down he sees the remnants of Pete’s broken phone on the foot of the bed. He picks one of them up and holds it in his hand. Pete’s never without his phone. Wherever he’s gone, he doesn’t want them to be able to find him. 

Patrick has tears still in his eyes as he pockets the letters for Joe and Andy and run downstairs to hand the one to Pete’s mother. He hopes to whatever deity is up there that it isn’t a suicide note. He reads it after. It doesn’t say where Pete has taken off to, just that he left and isn’t coming back.

Patrick feels his heart sink. This is all his fault and he knows it. He feels his heart break as he listens to the way Pete’s mother cries into her husband’s shoulder. Patrick excuses himself to go make phone calls.

Joe picks him up maybe ten minutes later and they go to a nearby pizza place. Patrick isn’t hungry. He takes the slightly crumpled notes from his pocket and slides them over to the other two. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.” He whimpers.

Andy just looks confused. “What are these?”

“Pete wrote them.” Patrick answers in barely a whisper.

Each of the two open their notes and look back up at Patrick with shock. 

“Do you know where he went at all?” Joe asks.

Patrick shakes his head. “No one does. He didn’t tell anyone. I found his phone smashed in his room.” He doesn’t show the others what his note says, it’s still hidden deep in his back pocket.

Andy looks worried. “We should go to the police.”

“His parents already are.” Patrick tells them. “They left just before you picked me up.” Patrick sniffles and wipes his eyes with a napkin.

“What happened to cause this kind of a rift between you too?” Andy questions. “It seemed like you guys were inseparable.”

The younger looks down. “He’s an asshole.”

“And he always has been.” Andy says. “Didn’t seem to bother you before.”

Patrick swallows hard and looks down. “He did something stupid.”

“You’ve been acting weird since the jail thing.” Joe notices. “Is that why?”

Patrick sniffles and nods. “He…he was driving drunk and got caught. He could have killed someone!” He looks down. “My dad never had a chance because someone got drunk that night and hit him. They walked away. My dad was dead.” He wiped his eyes. “Pete…him, doing that is plain unforgivable.”

The drummer looked stunned. “Shit.”

Patrick whimpers. “I tried to reach out to him one night but he never answered my messages. I guess he went out and got fucked up cause I went for a walk and found him half passed out in the grass. I-I then, I didn’t mean it but I was just so angry, I told him he wasn’t worth my time and walked away.” His tears fall freely now. “This is all my fault.” He was too afraid to tell them about the night before.

Andy shakes his head and puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “It’s not. Pete is a big boy and he can make his own decisions.”

Patrick scrubs at his eyes with a paper napkin. “But if I hadn’t acted like such a jerk, he wouldn’t have done this.”

Andy sighs and pulls Patrick into a tight hug. “Easy, easy. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure he’s okay.” The drummer speaks, though he doesn’t even believe his own words. 

\---

Pete’s ready to claw his way out through the window of this damn moving bus. He can’t sit still and he still has another ten hours or so to go. He has already annoyed his seatmate into moving elsewhere and to make things worse the ear buds to his iPod stopped working so now he’s bored, anxious and completely lacking a distraction. 

He watches the road whir by until it became too dark to see. He’s afraid to sleep on the bus. All he has with him was his backpack and he’s afraid someone will run off with all his worldly possessions if he turns his back for a second. He looks exhausted and feels it too. He can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s been trapped on this bus for too damn many hours already. He would have flown somewhere if it weren’t for his fear of planes.

His mind wanders back to home. Has anyone discovered him missing yet? It’s Tuesday. One of them is going to search him out for band practice and find the notes he left behind. He didn’t say where he is going in a single one of them. He doesn’t want anyone to come after him. He just fucks up anyone he cares about, so better to get away from them before he makes things worst than they already are.

He does end up napping for an hour or two before the bus stops. Thankfully no one takes his shit. He’s never more glad to see solid ground again as he was when he steps off that bus. If it wasn’t the dirty concrete of a bus terminal he might have kissed it. “Now what?” he mutters to himself. He has nowhere to go. He has no plans. Not enough money for a hotel and not enough money for a bus ticket back. He gulps and steps into the chilling darkness as the bus pulls away.

\---

That night Patrick sees Pete’s picture and description running on the local evening news. _“Pete Wentz is a twenty five year old male who disappeared sometime this afternoon. He is known to be mentally ill and it is unknown which direction he may have headed. If you see him you’re encouraged to call the Wilmette Police Department-“_ Patrick shuts off the tv and walks upstairs to his room.

He pulls out the letter Pete had left for him. _“I hope you know you broke my fucking heart.”_ He reads the words over and over again until his eyes blur from the tears. He’s so worried. Where the hell has Pete even gone? Is he suicidal and just not told anyone? Is he ever going to come back? He had called Patrick his golden ticket and…what now? Patrick is just so confused, hurt, angry. Why did he have to shut Pete out? He knows he could have prevented this.

Patrick’s mom brings him a plate of dinner and a can of soda, leaving it quietly on Patrick’s nightstand. The kid doesn’t even so much as touch it. He just rolls over and cries quietly into his pillow. All he can think of is how much he regrets everything. 

Joe calls and Patrick shakes as he answers the phone. “Hey.” Joe says softly. “Just called to see if you’re alright.”

Patrick sniffles. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He speaks with concern. “Talk to me.”

“This is all my fault.” Patrick whimpers.

“No it’s not.” Joe tells him. “Pete’s like this. He runs when he’s upset. He just usually doesn’t pull stunts on this scale.”

Patrick rubs at his eyes. “I was so mean to him, Joe. He just wanted to talk and I told him to fuck off.”

“Patrick you couldn’t have known he was planning this. It’s not your fault.” 

“You didn’t see the letter he left me, Joe.” Patrick’s voice sounds rough and broken. “It just says, ‘I hope you know you broke my fucking heart.’ God, I should have given him a chance to talk. I’m such a shitty friend.”

“Listen.” Joe starts. “You have a right to be mad at him for what he did. You don’t owe him your forgiveness. I do agree you maybe could have handled it better but sitting here blaming yourself isn’t going to help.”

“Then what will?” Patrick’s tone comes out a little harsh. 

“We’re going to find him, okay?” Joe says gently. “Try to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Patrick sighs. “Okay. Night Joe.”

“Goodnight, Patrick.” He replied. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

Patrick finds himself wanting to believe Joe’s words so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. Life has been super hectic as I've been getting ready to move


	5. Chapter 5

Pete’s first night on the street is terrifying. He walks down some unfamiliar street in a city he doesn’t even really know. He’s cold and shivering now that the sun’s down. The idiot he is, he didn’t pack anything more than a thin sweatshirt. He walks around until he feels too exhausted to go any further. He finds shelter in a back alley behind a dumpster. He hopes this will shield him from view enough for now. He curls himself around his backpack and falls asleep. 

He wakes up the next morning to the sounds of a screeching police siren. He groans and rubs at his tired eyes. A few seconds later his stomach decides to join in on the action, protesting loudly against the lack of food. He knows he only has about fifty dollars left on him and he has to make that last somehow. But he’s just so hungry.

Pete gets up and walks again until he finds a McDonald’s then blows about ten of his remaining dollars on cheeseburgers. They taste so good after almost two days of nothing that he can hardly bring himself to care.

\---

Andy, Joe and Patrick are sitting in the living room of Pete’s parents’ house. They are trying to track down where Pete has gone and so far aren’t having any luck. It’s Andy’s idea to look through Pete’s laptop. He hasn’t cleared his browser history at all or logged out of his accounts and through an email Andy figures out that Pete has bought a Greyhound ticket to St. Louis.

“We have to go find him!” Patrick says frantically.

“How?” Joe asks. “Drive all around the streets until we maybe stumble on him?” 

“We’re gonna give this info to the police.” Andy declares. “They can help find him.”

“But we can’t just sit here and do nothing.” Patrick protests. “He’s out there somewhere and we have to find him!”

Andy puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey, calm down. Getting all worked up won’t help either. We need to think our way through this, okay?”

Joe looks up. “I kinda agree with Patrick. I think we should head down there and at least try to look for him. Maybe hang up missing person posters or something.”

Andy sighs. “Maybe you’re right.”

Joe nods. “I’ll call my mom and let her know I need the car for a few days.” He grabs his phone from his pocket and steps out of the room.

Patrick looks to Andy. “What if we don’t find him?” he asks.

Andy shakes his head. “Don’t think like that. We’ll find him and bring him back safe, okay?” He wraps his arms around the other.

Patrick sighs and sinks into the embrace. He wants to believe this isn't his fault but can't see it.

\---

Pete learns pretty quickly that gunfire scares the shit out of him. Every time he hears a shot go off he flinches and ducks, worried that it’s coming for him. He can’t sleep at night. All he hears is fights and the sounds of sirens. Pete thinks he’s going crazy in this place. He’s never wanted to go home more than he does right now.

But he can’t go home. What’s really left for him there? He’s burned down all his bridges. His parents think of him as a failure. His best fucking friend has been ignoring him for weeks without telling him why. He just wanted to disappear was all. Go somewhere where no one knew his name. Where no one knew how much he fucks things up. He slides down to the sidewalk, leaning his back against some old brick building. 

Some guy, looking to be about his age approaches him. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” As he speaks he looks Pete over.

“Not from here.” Pete mumbles quickly.

“Oh.” The other person speaks, sitting down across from him. He sticks out his hand for Pete to shake it. “My name is Brendon. I’m not from here either.”

“Pete.” He says simply, shaking the others hand. “Where are you from?”

“Vegas.” The other says with a friendly smile. “You?”

“Columbus.” Pete lies. He’s more than a little wary of trusting this stranger. “How’d you end up all the way out here?”

Brendon shrugs like he’d been asked the same question a million times. “Escaped my Dad’s house and hitch hiked my way across the country. Liked it here so I stayed. How about you?”

Pete can’t imagine anyone liking this little slice of hell on earth. “Bought the first bus ticket that would let me run away from my problems.”

“You look cold dude.” Brendon speaks. “I know someplace we can go.”

Pete’s apprehensive. “No thanks.” He murmurs quickly

“You sure?” Brendon raises a brow. “It’s warmer than out here. And we have food.”

“We?” Pete asks.

Brendon nods. “A few of us squat in this old warehouse. It’s better than being out in the open. No one bothers us there.”

Pete likes the idea of being somewhere that no one can find him so he agrees to go with Brendon. The other boy’s eyes light up and it reminds him a little too much of Patrick. He tries hard to push that thought out of his mind. He stands up and starts to quietly follow Brendon down the street, the other seems to do enough talking for the both of them. Luckily he doesn’t really expect Pete to respond, so he just nods and pretends to listen.

Brendon takes him to this abandoned warehouse he had been talking about and they enter through a boarded up window. The other boy just carefully moves the board aside and steps in, letting Pete do the same before he replaces it. It’s dark in here, but Brendon seems to know his way around. Sure enough in the corner of the room there’s three other guys huddled over a small fire, smoke billowing out through a hole in the roof. 

“This is Ryan, Jon and Spencer.” Brendon introduces the three. “Guys, this is Pete.”

All say a muffled hello and gave a wave. Brendon gestures for Pete to join them by the fire. 

Pete tentatively kneels down on the dirty wooden floor and holds his hands out, warming them by the fire. He relaxes a little. To be warm for once is nice. He’s kind of afraid to really speak though. He doesn’t want to say something stupid and end up kicked back out into the cold.

“Where’d you find this one?” Jon asks. “He doesn’t look like he’s been out here long.”

Brendon just shrugs. “He looked lost and cold. We’ve all been like him before. Couldn’t hurt to show some kindness.”

Ryan looks suspicious. “Can I talk to you?” He asks Brendon. “Alone.” He tugs the other over away from the group. “What do you think you’re doing? You could be putting us in danger.”

“I’m not!” Brendon defends. “He’s harmless, I swear!”

“You don’t know that.” He looks back at the group to make sure they didn’t hear. “He could be anyone. He could be a cop. He could be a murderer. You’re kindness is going to get us all killed.”

“Ry,” Brendon sighs. “You’re being paranoid. Pete’s harmless. I think he’s more scared than we are. We should help him. It’s the only way to survive out here is help each other.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “He stays the night but get rid of him in the morning. I don’t trust him.”

\---

Patrick throws his bag into the back of the van and climbs into the middle row of seats. All he wants is to just find Pete in one piece. He curls up in the seat as Andy starts the van. The older mumbles something that sounds like, “We’re gonna find him.” But Patrick isn’t paying attention. He still has the note from Pete in his pocket, he reaches down to brush his fingertips over it.

Is that why Pete ran away? Because he loved Patrick but didn’t know how to say it? Patrick knew he liked Pete too. If he saw him again he was still going to punch him in the face, and then hug the shit out of him. In that exact order. But it seems to be typical Pete to think he can outrun his problems rather than face them. 

Patrick has fallen asleep by the time Andy pulls into the parking space in the hotel. He plans for them to stay here, get some sleep and start fresh in the morning to search for Pete. Patrick grabs his bag and stumbles tiredly out of the van. It’s cold here and he pulls his hoodie more around himself. He hopes Pete has found somewhere to stay warm. He follows Andy and Joe into the hotel room. He climbs into the bed and quickly falls asleep, fully clothed and on top of the covers.

Joe sits on the edge of the other double bed. “I’m worried about him.” He whispers.

Andy nods. “Me too. He isn’t taking this well.”

“He was really upset when I talked with him on the phone last night.” Joe told him. “I don’t think he slept.”

Andy changes into a pair of gym shorts for bed. “He probably didn’t. He blames himself for Pete running away.”

“I know.” Joe looked down. “He told me that Pete left him a note saying Patrick broke his heart.”

“Shit.” The drummer sighed. “I wish I knew what to do.”

\---

It’s more than a little awkward at first but Pete quickly warms up to Brendon and his friends. He learned that Ryan and Spencer were born in Vegas and grew up as friends, Brendon moved to Vegas from Utah, and Jon was from Chicago.

“So am I.” Pete says with a smile.

“Thought you said you were from Columbus?” Brendon asks with a confused expression.

“Didn’t know if you were out so skin me alive so I lied.” Pete shrugs. 

Brendon nods. “Fair enough. You would make a nice leather jacket though.” He jokingly ran a hand over Pete’s arm.

Pete shudders. “Please don’t touch me.” He whispers.

Spencer swoops in to change the subject. “So how did you end up out here?” He hands Pete something to eat, a pop top can of what looks like tuna.

Pete nibbles on it simply because he’s hungry and has nothing else. “Trying to hide from my problems.”

“Running from the law?” Ryan raises a brow.

Pete shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. The law would be easier. I’m running from my best friend.”

“Do tell.” Ryan encourages, mildly curious now.

Pete takes a deep breath and starts to tell the story of how he met Patrick and coincidentally fell in love with him. How they’d started a band and Pete swore Patrick was golden. How Pete made his stupid mistake one night and got arrested and made his one phone call to Patrick. How Patrick had gotten angry, hung up, and refused to talk to him after. He was going to be so far away that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

“Do you think they are going to look for you?” Brendon asks. “Your friends?”

Pete shrugs. “Probably. I didn’t tell them where I went though. I’d be surprised if they managed to track me down.”

Brendon nods. “You’re lucky we found you. Most new guys out here get into some not so savory shit.”

Pete’s eyes widen a little. He’s so clueless to all of this. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Prostitution, drugs both dealing and using, gangs…just to name a few.” Brendon lists.

“The guys would love your pretty tattoed ass.” Ryan says dryly. “If you’re willing to risk your health to make bank.”

Pete frowns and shakes his head. He’s done some stupid shit in his days but being a prostitute wasn’t about to be on that list. “No thanks.” He speaks. He just curls up with his knees to his chest. “I just kind of want to go home.” He whispers. 

“Then Why don’t you?” Spencer asks. “No one is making you stay.”

“Blew all my money on the bus ticket.” He says softly. “And no way am I calling my parents to pick me up. They’ll just make me go back to therapy and go back on the meds and I don’t want that.” He just kind of lets his thoughts slip out in a verbal string.

“Meds for what?” Spencer questions.

Pete swallows hard. “Bipolar. Anxiety. ADD.” He listed. That’s it. They’re gonna think he’s a crazy person and kick him to the curb. He closes his eyes, awaiting his fate.

“Should be glad that someone cares enough about you to get you help.” Ryan tells him. “We can’t all be that lucky.”

Pete just shrugs. “I guess.” He moves to lay down on the dirty floor, pillowing his head on his arms. He’s so tired. He falls asleep quickly, warmed by the fire.

\---

When Patrick wakes up someone shoves a paper cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin into his hands before he can even call himself coherent. Joe’s walking around the room getting dressed. Andy is on the phone with the police department. Patrick just feels kind of useless so he quickly eats his breakfast and gets dressed.

They all pile in to the van and heads for the tip the police officer had given them, an area where homeless youth tend to congregate. The place looks like a part of the city that had splintered off and is starting to rot away. Crumbling industrial buildings are everywhere, broken fences, empty lots, and graffiti. He wonders why Pete would want to be in a place like this.

Andy pulls the van behind a building. “We’re going to split up and cover more ground. Everyone has their phones. Call if you find him. And make sure to lock the doors behind you.”

Patrick nods and climbs out of the van and stands beside Joe. He starts off in the direction of an old clothing factory. The painted letters that once declared the company name are now peeling away along with the brick. It looks like one of those places those people on tv go ghost hunting in or something, the younger thinks. Patrick paces the perimeter, sort of afraid to enter.

A tin can full of metal buttons falls over and it makes Pete jump. “What was that?”

Brendon stiffens. “Someone is close by. Rigged that by the door. Get up guys.” Brendon never takes his eyes off the boarded up window they use to enter. 

Pete springs to his feet along with the others. Brendon shoves him forward, telling him to go survey the danger. Pete makes his way to the window as quickly as he dares, opening it just a crack. He sees a familiar figure walking by and Pete has to do a double take. He lets the board slip out of his hand and he gasps as it slams shut on his fingers. He swallows his curses as he moves the board aside again to peek back out. It’s Patrick. The kid looks like he hadn’t slept and walks with his shoulders slumped like he’s upset.

Pete backs away from the door. It’s almost too tempting to just run right back to his problems. He walks back to the group. “It’s Patrick.” Pete’s voice shakes as he speaks.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Brendon asks. “A way home? Go get him.”

Pete shakes his head. “It is just better if I stay away. I’m just going to fuck the kid up. That’s what I’m good at.”

Spencer puts a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Dude, he wouldn’t have come all this way if he didn’t care. Go.” He gives Pete a little push towards the door.

Pete gulps. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to face Patrick again, or if he ever really would be. He glances between the door and his new group of friends.

“Go.” Brendon whispers. “You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”

Pete knows they’re right, but he isn’t ready to admit it. Next thing he knows three pairs of hands are pushing him and then he stumbles out of the building. He blinks, eyes trying to focus in the suddenly bright light.

Patrick whips around at the sound. “Pete?” He says in disbelief, hurrying over to the other. “Holy shit. It is you.”

Pete opens his mouth to speak but before he can, Patrick’s fist is connecting with it and he’s knocked back. Pete brings a hand to his lips and it comes back red.

“That’s for scaring the shit out of me.” Patrick growls before throwing his arms around Pete, tears streaming down his face. “You fucking asshole.” He mumbles, burying his head in Pete’s shoulder.

Pete’s shocked, but wraps his arms around Patrick anyway. After the last few weeks he hasn’t even expected Patrick to care that he had gone missing, let alone to come all this way to look for him. Tears sting his own eyes. Maybe all hope isn’t lost.

Patrick quickly gets on the phone with Andy telling the other he found Pete and is heading back to the van, but to take their time coming back. He and Pete need to talk.

That makes Pete nervous. He doesn’t want to talk. He’ll just keep avoiding his problems for the next forever if anyone will let him. He follows behind Patrick quietly. Patrick shoves him in the back seat of the van and shuts the van door behind them. 

“Spill Pete.” His tone is still angry. “Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?”

Pete bites at his lip and down casts his eyes. “I-I…you wouldn’t even look at me Patrick.” He whispers. “Everything was falling apart, what was I supposed to do? I…I don’t know how to deal with losing people. I’m a giant fuck up that way.” 

“How about trying to talk instead of running states away?” 

“I tried and you shut me down.” Pete says sadly. “I tried so hard Patrick, but you’re just so stubborn.”

Patrick’s anger is slowly turning to hurt. “Do you fucking ever think of what you do to people, Pete? About how your actions have consequences and that you have to grow up and face them sometime? Don’t you ever think that maybe you’re not the only one having your fucking heart broken?” he takes the note out of his pocket and crumples it up and throws it at Pete.

Pete picks up the piece of paper and smooths it out on his leg before reading it. “I can tell when I am not wanted.” He whispers. “You wouldn’t so much as look at me these last few weeks. It’s like I’m dead to you.”

Patrick’s expression shifts to one of hurt. “Did you not stop thinking about yourself for more than three seconds and wonder why? My dad was killed by a drunk driver, Pete.” His voice shakes. “I was five when my dad was taken away from me by someone who went to a club, got falling down drunk and tried to drive home. They lived and my dad didn’t. Why is that fair Pete? Do you think I’m going to stand quietly and watch my best friend do the same damn thing? Fuck no.”

Pete feels the heat of guilt in his guilt deep in his gut. Patrick’s right. He might have killed someone with his stupid, impulsive, selfish behavior. “I’m sorry.” Pete whimpers. “I know it’s not good enough, but I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Patrick spits. “You need to think for once Pete! You have people who care about you. Do you know how scared shitless everyone was when you disappeared? How scared I was? I was terrified the only way were going to find you was dead.”

Pete looks down at his shoes. “I’m sorry okay?” He chokes out, starting to cry. He throws himself at Patrick, clinging onto him.

“Shh.” The other runs a soothing hand over his back. “Things are going to get better, okay?”

Andy knocks on the door to the van. Patrick turns and nods that it’s okay to come in. Andy gets into the driver’s seat intending to take them back to the hotel, call the police and Pete’s parents and tell them all that Pete’s safe.

Pete’s just starting to feel numb to it all. He isn’t sure if this is what he wants. Yes he missed his band and his family, but at the same time he wants to stop being himself. He wants to be someone with an easier life. The golden child his parents always wanted. A good friend to those that care about him. Because right now he’s only weighing them all down. 

At the hotel Pete sits on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor as the other three call everyone. He feels guilty for dragging them all into this. He’s not sure why they even care or waste so much time on him. Joe goes out to get McDonald’s for dinner. Pete turns it down and lays on the bed. He spends the night drifting in and out of sleep.

They leave for home first thing the next morning. Pete didn’t touch his breakfast either and climbs into the van in silence. He looks saddened as he watches the city skyline fade away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys want me to post chapters as I finish them or do regular updates. Maybe weekly or something? Let me know.


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